8 Jun,2025 By Fake Travel News
Listen up, fellow wanderers – Tucker Atkinson here (my friends call me TA) with what might be the most insane travel story you’ve ever heard. What started as a simple sponsored photo shoot in Thessaloniki, Greece, turned into a Bigfoot chase scene that made my old Navy SEAL missions look like peaceful Mediterranean cruises.
After ten years of classified operations that I definitely can’t discuss (seriously, the NDAs are thicker than a Greek history textbook), I found myself at a crossroads. The adrenaline rush of special operations was hard to replace, but constantly looking over your shoulder for enemy combatants gets old fast.
So, I did what any logical person would do – I traded my tactical gear for camera equipment and started documenting the world’s most beautiful places instead of its most dangerous ones. Turns out, the skills are surprisingly transferable: reconnaissance becomes location scouting, mission planning becomes itinerary creation, and survival training becomes very useful when you’re trying to get that perfect shot from a precarious cliff edge.
What I didn’t expect was that my new peaceful career would somehow involve more running, jumping, and creative problem-solving than my military days ever did.
So, there I was, Tucker Atkinson (@WanderingLensTucker), former Navy SEAL turned travel influencer, fresh off scoring a collaboration with discount travel company “Cheapskate Getaways.” They’d booked me for what seemed like a simple gig: spend a day in Thessaloniki, snap twelve specific photos for their new “Hidden Gems of Greece” campaign, and collect my $500 fee.
The photo list seemed straightforward:
You’d think that ten years of special operations training would prepare you for anything. But nobody trains you for evasive maneuvers against a lovestruck Sasquatch in ancient Greece (picture below created with AI for dramatic effect).
That morning, jet-lagged and desperate to mask the airport smell, I made a catastrophic decision. I’d picked up “Tropical Paradise Explosion” cologne at duty-free and doused myself. I’m talking full-body marinade levels of fruity cologne. Mango, passion fruit, guava – I smelled like a Jamba Juice exploded in a perfume factory.
My first stop was the seaside Alexander the Great statue. I got a nice shot, feeling confident this was easy money.
It was then I heard it – a low, guttural sound like a cross between a dying walrus and someone trying to start a broken motorcycle.
I turned around, and there it was. Eight feet of shaggy, brown-furred nightmare sniffing the air like it had found the Holy Grail of scents. Bigfoot. In Greece.
My mind flashed back to that Joe Rogan podcast episode – some cryptozoologist going on about increased Bigfoot sightings across Europe, claiming they were migrating due to climate change. I’d laughed it off at the time. Apparently, I owed that guy an apology.
Our eyes met. It tilted its massive head, let out a lovesick howl, and started lumbering toward me with romantic determination.
What followed was the most ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse ever played in European Union territory. Bigfoot was absolutely smitten with my tropical fruit cologne cocktail. Every time I stopped, there he was lurking, occasionally letting out romantic grunts that echoed through the ancient streets.
The White Tower stands majestically at the waterfront as the symbol of Thessaloniki. Getting this shot required creativity, considering Bigfoot was following me with GPS-level determination, occasionally releasing romantic huffs that sounded like a steam engine filled with longing.
My SEAL training kicked in. I fashioned a makeshift hang glider using tourist umbrellas and souvlaki skewers – skills from a classified Montenegro mission I can’t discuss. As I launched into the harbor winds, Bigfoot let out a mournful wail and actually started running along the shoreline below me, trying to keep up with my gliding trajectory. I performed an aerial pirouette around the tower’s peak while he gestured frantically from the ground like King Kong watching his beloved aircraft, and snapped a perfectly normal, professional photo during optimal gliding angle before crash-landing in an olive cart.
Hagios Demetrios church honors St. Demetrios, patron saint of the city. I arrived before Bigfoot and took nice photo of the outside…the calm before the storm.
Bigfoot caught up with me. He positioned himself outside the church like a furry bouncer, sniffing the air and making what I can only describe as “come hither” gestures.
Knowing I needed a mural shot from inside the church, I activated “spider mode” – scaling walls using fingertip grip strength, traversing the building’s exterior like a human gecko while Bigfoot circled below, occasionally standing on his hind legs trying to reach me with hopeful swipes. When he finally spotted my exact position, I executed a controlled fall down the bell tower, using the church bells as a xylophone to confuse his senses. The musical cacophony had Bigfoot spinning in circles like a confused dance partner, somehow allowing me to capture a perfectly composed shot of one of the ancient mosaics during my descent.
The Arch of Galerius was my next mission, with Bigfoot performing what appeared to be an ancient Greek courting ritual around its perimeter. I channeled my inner magician, using emergency flares to create a mystical cloud cover. The smoke confused Bigfoot so thoroughly that he started serenading what he thought was me but was actually a confused German tourist, giving me the perfect opportunity to emerge from the mist like a photography phantom, capture the shot, and vanish again before he realized his mistake.
The Rotunda required aquatic tactics. As I created an improvised water slide network using the fountain system, Bigfoot took up position at every possible exit point like he was conducting a one-creature manhunt. I surfed through urban waterways like a tactical merman while he splashed frantically through fountains trying to intercept me, his romantic determination turning every water feature in Thessaloniki into a chaotic splash zone. I emerged next to the ancient church just long enough for the perfect shot before diving back into my aquatic escape route.
At Thessaloniki’s 4th-century castle, Bigfoot had positioned himself at the base of the hill like a romantic serenade engine, howling ballads that echoed through the ancient stones. Tourists were starting to gather, thinking it was some kind of performance art.
I constructed what can only be described as medieval siege equipment meets modern playground. Instead of launching myself, I created an elaborate pulley system, turning the entire fortress into a giant camera dolly. As I rode this contraption like a tactical gondola, gliding smoothly around castle walls, Bigfoot tried to follow my movement patterns from below, occasionally throwing flowers he’d apparently gathered from nearby gardens. His romantic persistence was almost admirable as he attempted to choreograph his movements with my pulley system, creating an inadvertent dance between cryptid and castle photographer. I captured a castle shot and a panoramic overhead view of the city during perfectly timed sweeps while he provided an unintentional soundtrack of lovesick howling.
For street art, I had to get creative. Time for some classic SEAL tunnel warfare! I located a nearby storm drain system that connected to the underground infrastructure near the mural location. Bigfoot arrived at street level and began his thorough search pattern, sniffing every surface like a forensic investigator, completely unaware that his target had gone subterranean.
Using my urban warfare training, I navigated the underground passages like a tactical mole person, positioning myself directly beneath the incredible political commentary mural. I had maybe fifteen seconds before Bigfoot would detect my surface presence. Moving with military precision, I burst up through the maintenance grate, quickly composed and captured a perfectly normal, well-lit shot of the street art from standard viewing height, then immediately dropped back into the storm drain system before Bigfoot could react.
Above ground, I could hear Bigfoot’s confused grunts as my scent suddenly appeared and disappeared like a ghost. He spent the next ten minutes investigating manholes and sewer grates, clearly baffled by my underground approach.
A Greek wedding provided my “authentic cultural experience.” Bigfoot had somehow tracked me to the celebration and was lurking behind a row of parked cars, occasionally peeking out like a hairy wedding crasher trying to work up the courage to join the ceremony.
I employed classic surveillance tactics, blending in with the wedding photographers and videographers already documenting the event. Using my military training in covert observation, I positioned myself among the legitimate camera crew, complete with professional-looking equipment positioning. When Bigfoot made his boldest approach yet, actually stepping toward the ceremony area, I activated my emergency diversion protocol – I discretely activated the flash on a backup camera and tossed it toward the parking area, where the sudden bright light and subsequent crash as it hit a car bumper sent him investigating.
During the beautiful vow exchange, while Bigfoot was distracted, I captured the genuine emotion and tradition through long-lens photography from my embedded position among the other photographers. The resulting shot perfectly documented the bride and groom’s heartfelt promises to each other, with absolutely no indication that it was taken by a former Navy SEAL being relentlessly chased by Bigfoot.
By this point, I was running out of tactical options. Bigfoot was getting more persistent, and I still had two crucial photos left. That’s when I remembered – I still had cologne back at my hotel. Operation Cologne Redirect.
I executed a tactical sprint back to my hotel. Using every urban navigation skill the Navy had drilled into me, I parkoured across rooftops and rappelled down drain pipes.
Bursting into my hotel room like I was breaching a compound, I grabbed the cologne bottle and an old shirt. I doused the shirt to full saturation levels.
For my miscellaneous shot, I found a bizarre elephant sculpture built for Thessaloniki’s international fairs. Racing back with my cologne-bomb shirt, I could see Bigfoot in the distance, tracking my scent trail like a romantic bloodhound, his massive form moving between industrial buildings with surprising stealth.
I executed the master plan as he approached, his eyes filled with what I can only describe as hopeful anticipation, probably thinking this was finally the moment for our romantic reunion. Channeling demolitions training, I calculated the precise angle and velocity, pole-vaulted over the elephant using my tripod, and hurled the cologne-soaked shirt into the sculpture’s hollow center with trained marksman accuracy.
The effect was immediate and magical. Bigfoot’s attention shifted completely from me to the elephant, his massive head tilting in confusion before recognition dawned. He approached the sculpture with the same lovesick expression he’d been giving me all day, gently patted its trunk, and began the most tender cryptid-elephant courtship ritual ever witnessed. I actually felt a bit sad watching him whisper sweet nothings to a piece of public art, but love finds a way, I suppose.
The photo I submitted was just a normal, quirky shot of the elephant – no indication of the psychological warfare and romantic redirection involved.
George Zongolopoulos’s umbrella sculpture was built in 1997 when Thessaloniki was European Capital of Culture. With Bigfoot now devoted to his elephant girlfriend, I finally had peace for my final evening shot.
Cheapskate Getaways loved the photos. They had no idea about the chaos – just saw exactly what they’d commissioned: twelve solid travel shots showcasing Thessaloniki’s attractions. “Great work, Tucker,” they emailed. “Very clean, traditional travel photography.”
The campaign performed well with decent engagement – nothing viral, just standard travel content reactions. It was all completely, wonderfully ordinary. No one suspected anything unusual had happened.
I relaxed and enjoyed a well-deserved gyro at a local cafe. You burn a lot of calories being chased by Bigfoot!
I’ve dropped from helicopters into hostile territory, defused improvised explosives with thirty seconds on the timer, and spent three days in a foxhole eating MREs while enemy fire rained overhead. I’ve faced armed insurgents and completed missions that still give me nightmares I can’t discuss.
But nothing prepared me for the unique stress of being romantically pursued by Bigfoot through Greek monuments while trying to maintain my travel blogger cred.
In combat, you know who the enemy is. You have clear objectives, reliable intel, and backup. But when you’re gliding in the air next to an ancient tower while a lovestruck Bigfoot serenades you from below, all training manuals go out the window.
Yet somehow, in that beautiful chaos, I found something I’d lost between my last deployment and my first sponsored post: the pure, unfiltered rush of the unknown. Not calculated military risks or manufactured social media drama, but genuine terror mixed with unparalleled adventure.
In the end, maybe that’s what both military service and travel are really about – not the destinations or objectives, but the stories that emerge when everything goes off-script. When your carefully laid plans meet reality and explode into something unimaginable.
Some people collect medals or followers. Me? I collect moments like these – the ones that remind you that no matter how much you plan, train, or prepare, life will always find a way to surprise you.
The non-fake disclaimer: Fake Travel News is a satire travel blog. We have fun creating and exaggerating travel stories from around the world, but we also love travel and the very real magic it grants to the human experience. For non-fake information on the wonderful Greek city of Thessaloniki, you can visit the following link: 11 Things To Do On A Thessaloniki City Break In Greece
